


Talk

by vinumxvitae



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, some angst i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:53:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23168833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinumxvitae/pseuds/vinumxvitae
Summary: Jolyon is a man of few words. Uldren learns how to speak without talking.
Relationships: Uldren Sov/Jolyon Till the Rachis
Comments: 5
Kudos: 65





	Talk

Talk was something the Reef was not short of. Words were everywhere, seeping up through the cracks in the aging metal, bouncing off the arched ceilings and settling in the dark depths of sealed bedchambers. Gossip hung like cobwebs in the spaces farthest from the Queen's watchful throne. Rumors collected in little pools at the feet of vendors, tracked away by a nosy patron's footsteps to a new destination. 

Talk was not something that Jolyon Till the Rachis held in high regard. If he sat long enough in the Reef's most central terminals, he would hear the same talk across several cycles like variations on a musical theme. No talk was the same but all of it had an identifiable root. 

He did no talking, but his own name fell from the lips of a fellow Crow and this gave him great pause. 

"The Prince plays favorites," the spy murmured, unaware of how far his own voice carried. "It's always Jolyon. Everything is Jolyon."

* * *

"You wanted to talk to me?"

Jolyon hesitated, avoiding the bright orange eyes that flitted over him. 

"The other Crows..." he started, but words would not fall from his tongue. 

"They gossip too much, don't they? And yet I can't seem to get a single word out of you," Uldren laughed. "Jol, my man, what is it? What have they done?"

For a moment, Jolyon was fixed on his smile. It was such a rare sight and Jolyon was so much more fond of looking than anything else. But looking told Uldren nothing.

"They believe me to be your favorite," Jolyon blurted. "I just happened to overhear. Nothing serious."

"They aren't wrong, but I suppose favoritism breeds contempt."

Jolyon's mouth snapped shut. He looked at Uldren incredulously, unsure of how the Prince's sly grin made him feel. It made something twist deep in his guts, something warm and smothering and not unpleasant.

"I'll care what they say when one of them can out-shoot you," Uldren finished, and Jolyon knew that meant _never_.

* * *

Uldren was also not fond of talk. Or talk _ing_ , grandiose though he was. He knew how to put on a good show but with Jol, words were mostly unnecessary. 

Jolyon discovered this as they lay side-by-side, stretched prone across the red Mars sand. Uldren would place his free hand beneath Jolyon's arm, just in the softest spot of his armor, and tap out coordinates silently. Jolyon would adjust his Supremacy in the most minute, undetectable movements. They lay invisible for hours at a time, only speaking with touch and sight.

It took some practice. Practice bred a certain sort of intimacy, the kind that made them nearly inseparable as they developed their own language. Taps became the slightest brush of fingers, tracing shapes against exposed skin. In tight quarters, Uldren could lie across the back of Jolyon's shoulders and draw living maps just behind the sniper's ear. He would rest his face against Jolyon’s white hair, perched ever so delicately above him, and Jolyon wondered if his quickening pulse could be felt through layers of armor drumming out its own code.

* * *

Sometimes, Jolyon would catch a glimpse of their reflections as they strode through the Reef. He was everything Uldren was not; tall, pale, long-haired and strong. At certain angles, Uldren seemed so small. So delicate, though his lithe frame belied his true strength. 

Uldren had his ways of playing intimidation games. His voice was soft but often dripping with venom, his language subtly arrogant and lofty to gall his target. Those who didn’t understand him often came away from court scorned or with a bitter taste in their mouth, but the few who could play his word games and toss back all the false posturing caught a glimpse of the man Jolyon was far more familiar with.

It never occurred to him that he looked down to speak to Uldren. He became painfully aware of it and attempted to avert his gaze when they spoke, but Uldren took notice. 

"Look me in the eyes, Jol," Uldren said softly. "Why do you look away?"

"It feels disrespectful."

"You view yourself as less than me?"

"I am."

“Only in rank. And that is for paperwork,” Uldren retorted. “I want to see your eyes. When you won’t talk, they tell me everything.”

This gave Jolyon even more pause. He hurried to find anything else to look at, his gaze skittering across the horizon until Uldren reached up and pulled his chin back towards him. 

There was a moment where Jolyon knew his eyes were giving him away. Talking too much. Spilling his secret, this warmth in the depths of his guts and the thump in his ears when Uldren touched him. Uldren lingered and Jolyon felt as if he might combust, fighting the urge to lean into the Prince’s palm. 

“You’re still terrible at keeping secrets,” Uldren huffed, bumping Jolyon’s chin with the back of his fingers playfully. 

* * *

Words were insignificant and mostly useless when the sounds escaping Jolyon's lips were sweeter to Uldren than anything in the cosmos. 

The first kiss could have almost been an accident had Uldren not noticeably stretched up on his tiptoes to Jolyon's height. It was clumsy, so unlike the Prince, and so brief that Jolyon wondered if it was real. Uldren disappeared for nearly half a day until he realized that Jolyon wasn’t leaving. 

The second was certainly not an accident and Jolyon found himself pressed against the inside of Uldren’s bedroom door, tongue-tied both metaphorically and with the Prince himself. Jolyon gasped against his lips, breathless, and the answering laugh sent chills up his spine. 

One night became several nights. Several nights became routine, and eventually when someone sent for Jolyon they knew to check Uldren’s quarters first. Jolyon would almost always be curled around his prince, tucked beneath the softest black satin, awake but just enough to follow the faint white markings that crawled across Uldren’s skin. 

Jolyon made a point to kiss every tattoo that he could find. Every inch, from the ones that wrapped around his collarbones to the ones that curled around his thighs. Uldren, he decided, was a marvelous work of art. Sculpted by the cosmos. Thousands of years of perfection crafted by forces beyond their imagining. 

“Have you always felt this way?” Uldren asked one night, combing his fingers through Jolyon’s hair. 

“Maybe.”

“The one secret you’ve kept from me.”

"I don't think I ever wanted it to be a secret," Jolyon whispered. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You know I let you do all the talking.”

“Fair enough.”

Jolyon put a stop to an impending soliloquy with a kiss, smiling against his lips when he felt Uldren’s fingers curl a little too tightly into the back of his hair. 

* * *

When Jolyon listened, his name graced the lips of almost every person in the Reef. Variations on a theme again, rumors and gossip, but for once there was a truth to it all.

"Uldren's favorite. One of the guards said he sleeps in his room now. It's all Jolyon this, Jolyon that."

"Everything is Jolyon. They're in love."

"I don't think the Prince knows what love is."

But Jolyon knew differently. He knew that when court adjourned, Uldren would be waiting for him. He knew he'd round the corner and meet him halfway, he'd kiss him and feel the Prince smile against his lips with a smile that was meant only for the two of them. Fingertips drumming out code, the rhythm of his pulse betraying his composure, tracing the living maps of Uldren's skin. Lying prone across the lavish expanse of his bed while he watched the Prince preen in his great mirrors. 

He did no talking. He didn't care for it, even after so long a time. He didn't mind his name lilting across the Reef so long as he could hear it on Uldren's own tongue. 

Talk was not something he held in high regard when everything that needed to be said could be felt in the crackle of starlight between his lips and his Prince's lavender skin.


End file.
